


Disaster in the Kitchen

by Jetainia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 03:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetainia/pseuds/Jetainia
Summary: Helga learns that passion does not mean skill, Salazar learns how to make a cupcake. Properly.





	Disaster in the Kitchen

Helga examined the résumé and eager face in front of her. The text on the paper was impressive and she could tell the man was skilled. He just didn’t seem to have any skills in her area of expertise and thus the position he was now applying for. She sat back and took a sip of tea before placing the résumé down on the table between them.

“So, Salazar, why do you want to work here?”

Salazar smiled. “I love baking and I think this would be a great place to work and hone my skills.”

“And how are your skills, Mr. Slytherin?” After all, the man had nothing about baking on his résumé. There was nothing even hinting to the hospitality or culinary worlds listed on the paper.

“Ah, well. They’re getting better with every creation.” He grinned disarmingly at her.

Helga ignored the charm he was sending out and instead focused on Salazar’s words. A very neat way of avoiding the question without seeming to. She took another sip of tea and watched Salazar. His fingers were twitching underneath the table, the only sign being the slight shifting of the long sleeves covering his arms as the muscles moved. 

He wanted the job. She could see the spark in his eyes that had been missing from several other applicants. Eventually, she sighed and stood up. Salazar looked heartbroken and she hurried to reassure him.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He looked up at her in confusion and slight fear. “Go where?”

“The kitchen. Where else would I see your skills at work?”

Salazar scrambled to follow her as she made her way into the kitchen. When she entered, she stepped to the side and gestured Salazar farther in. There were the ingredients for a simple cupcake sitting on one of the benches and she motioned him to them.

“Everything you need for vanilla cupcakes. Let’s see what you can do.”

Within ten minutes, she knew that Salazar was hopeless at baking. There was flour, sugar, and milk everywhere with the occasional eggshell laying in the mess; if Helga wasn’t mistaken, there was also a few bits of eggshell in the cupcakes themselves. The batter was the wrong consistency as Salazar mixed vigorously and then poured into the pans without lining or greasing them.

Helga said nothing as she internally winced at all the mistakes the man was making. She could tell that he was trying his hardest, determined to make something at least semi-presentable. He paused when he saw the cupcake liners sitting unused on the bench and she could see he was kicking himself as he quickly used them for the remaining batter.

The oven was turned on only after Salazar had slid the trays into it and she knew that would add more complications. Salazar dusted off the flour from his person and gave her an uncertain smile, the concern he felt visible in his face and fidgeting hands. She returned the smile and left the kitchen, heading for the coffee machine and refilling her cup with boiling water before dunking a teabag into it. 

Salazar followed after her, casting worried glances back at the kitchen as the cupcakes baked in the oven. He refused Helga’s silent offer of a drink and instead leaned against one of the counters opposite Helga.

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself while we wait for those to finish?” she asked eventually.

Salazar nodded. “There’s not that much to tell, really. I’ve always been obsessed with baking and have been doing it since I was a child, although not always successfully.”

“And before you decided to come here, what were you doing?”

“I was working in a small accounting firm. It went bust when the owner was discovered stealing from the clients and the business. I figured it was as good a time as any to finally get around to pursuing baking seriously.”

He didn’t seem embarrassed that he had been involved with a company that wasn’t completely in line with the law, but then, he hadn’t been directly involved with the crime so it made sense. Helga thought back to the many tips she had been given when she was looking for a job and one of them was to never shine a light on the bad things. Salazar had either never heard that or elected to ignore it given that ties to criminal activity—no matter how loose—were often something avoided by employers.

The smell of burning cupcakes wafted into the main area after a few minutes of silence and Salazar cursed as he frantically rushed to pull the cakes out of the oven. Helga grinned slightly to herself, knowing this would happen due to the large amount of sugar he had put in the batter as well as the phenomenal temperature the oven had been set to.

She followed after him sedately and her grin widened when she saw him poking at the well-browned tops of his creations forlornly. Helga set her cup down on the bench next to her and walked over to him, looking over the items that were meant to be cupcakes.

“Attempting to poison your employer is not usually the way to get the job,” she stated, and Salazar slumped.

“I’m sorry, I really tried.”

“I know. I also know there are more jobs than baking in a coffee shop. Come along.”

What followed after that was a series of unfortunate events starting with almost getting burned from Salazar trying to froth milk. It continued with the coffee grounds definitely being burned from being tamped down too hard causing the water to take longer dripping through, seeing a tray of perfectly good cupcakes get defaced by Salazar’s decorating attempts, losing a fair amount of ingredients to all the previous endeavours and a last, desperate attempt at making something edible that turned into biscuits usable only as bricks.

Eventually, Salazar sighed and collapsed on one of the many chairs in the café. “I’m hopeless.”

Helga, who was returning from her office, had to agree. “At baking, yes, I must say you are.” She plopped the folder of papers she had retrieved on the table in front of him. “I am, however, willing to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Accounting for lessons. Plus a job.” Salazar stared at her in stunned disbelief and Helga smiled. “You have the spark that no one else walking through my doors for this job had. I’m not about to let that leave without trying to turn the spark into a flame. Besides, if you take on the job of making sure the money is where it should be, I can stop spending hours battling headaches and looking for another baker.”

“And you’ll teach me how to bake?” Salazar asked, making sure he understood the proposition.

“Every day you’re here. If you’re good, I may even teach you the secret recipes of  _ Foundations _ .”

(It took many years and a wedding for Salazar to learn those recipes, but he eventually managed it. He also managed to make the perfect cupcake—with a little bit of help.)


End file.
